Another Beginning
by Midnight Conversations
Summary: Barry never met Iris when they were kids. Instead, Barry was adopted by the wealthy Smythe family and forced to take the name, Sebastian Smythe. Now finished with college, Barry is back in Central City, working as a forensic scientist to investigate his mothers murder. If only his past would stop coming to bother him.
1. The Beginning

_**11 Years Old**_

I never had a lot of friends growing up. In all honesty, I never had a single good friend. Sure, I sometimes talked to my science partner, and I usually had a lot of interesting conversations with the young lunch lady who was saving up for medical school, but I had never had someone who I could honestly refer to as a best friend. I was always what people consider to be a nerd, who would rather spend my time reading up on advanced microbiology than going to Jimmy's 10th birthday party. Barry Allen was a world-class nerd, everyone knew that. I guess that's what started all the bullying. Or maybe, the reason I didn't have any friends, was because I was always bullied, and people were afraid that if they were to become my friend, they would get bullied as well. I don't blame them.

I thought of all this as I sat in a table in a prison conference room, along with my father in handcuffs, my lawyer wearing his signature grey suit and glasses, and three cops that were standing in different corners of the room. It's been 2 weeks since my father was officially charged with the murder of my mother. He was sentenced to life in prison, no parole, no chance of ever living a normal life. No one believed me when I told them he didn't kill my mother, that it was actually the man in the lightning. They all thought I was some poor kid who wants to protect their father. They are all wrong.

Ever since my father was put in prison, I was forced to stay in an orphanage, along with multiple other kids, with multiple different stories. We were all different from each other, but the underlying fact, the one thing we all have in common, is that we have no where else to go. Most of the kids there avoided me, none wanted to get close to the nerdy new kid. After all, it was only a matter of time before one of us left to another home, never to contact the other again.

My father, lawyer, and I are all gathered at the prison today to discuss the possibility of finding me a permanent home. No one wants to take in the son of a convicted killer.

"Does Bartholomew have any friends that would be willing to take him in?" My lawyer, Mr. Wilson asked.

"No. And it's Barry." I answered quickly. It was true, I never had any real friends, and the bullying only got worse after 'the incident'.

Trying not to let out a frustrated sigh, Mr. Wilson adjusted the glasses on his nose, and looked through some files.

"Well, as you are aware, the orphanage Barth- sorry Barry, is currently residing in is only a temporary home. Since he still has another 7 years as a minor, we have to find him another place to reside. There are not enough foster homes here in Central City, so he may need to be placed in a different city." Mr. Wilson informed my father.

"I made it quite clear that I do not want Barry in foster care. Isn't there any family that is willing to adopt?" My father pleaded.

"I'm going to be honest here, Barry's case is not the most appealing. He is already 11 years old, and he comes from a tragic home. That is not exactly the kind of child most people are looking to adopt."

"Just please, keep looking. There must be someone." My father once more pleaded.

"Very well. The trick to finding someone a suitable home is seeing what makes them different from everyone else. So, Barry, what makes you different?" Mr. Wilson asked me.

Finally, a question I could answer. Ever since my mother was murdered, I have been useless. No one listened to me, even if I was the only eyewitness. People usually directed all questions to my father or lawyer, and when they did ask me a question, it was one that was impossible fro me to answer. But this, this I could answer. All my life I have been different, usually made me a target for most bullies, but now it could be the only thing that will save me.

So without missing a single beat I answered, "I have an abnormally high IQ, with stellar grades, and a deep interest in science. My mother was born in Paris, so ever since I could speak she has been teaching me French, so I am fluent. I can play the piano, violin, and guitar. Mother used to say I am musically gifted. I have a passion for composing, whether it is in regards to music, or scientific experiments."

As I spoke, Mr. Wilson took down notes. I just hoped my talents would be enough to find me a family. It's not that I wanted someone to replace my parents; in all actuality I despised the idea of having someone else look after me. But I was doing this for my dad. He would never rest well if I was stuck in foster care, instead of being adopted. So even though I may hate the idea, this was something I had to do, for my dad.

Setting his pen on the table, Mr. Wilson said, "I have no promises, but I will keep looking. Who knows, maybe the kid could get lucky." With that, Mr. Wilson said his good byes, and left the room.

I then said a quick farewell to my father, before an officer escorted me back to the orphanage. It was another week before I heard from Mr. Wilson again. He had contacted the orphanage, asking if I could be taken down to Iron Heights Prison again for a meeting. They were quick to agree.

So an hour later, I am sitting once again in the dark conference room, one again around a table with my father, and Mr. Wilson. This time however, there were two new people sitting opposite of me. The man was tall and slightly muscular. He was wearing what seemed to be a very expensive navy blue suit. The woman next to him was also blond, with her hair tied up in an elegant bun. She was wearing a gray professional, yet stylish dress, and she had a noticeably large wedding ring on her finger. From what I gathered, the two of them are married, most likely extraordinarily wealthy, have high respecting jobs, and are somewhere between their late thirties to early forties.

Mr. Wilson cleared his throat, and began the introductions, "Mr. and Mrs. Smythe, this is Mr. Henry Allen, and his son Bartholomew Allen, although he prefers to go by the name Barry. Henry, Barry, meet Richard and Hannah Smythe, they are looking to adopt."

My eyes widened as he completed the introductions. Someone was actually looking to adopt me?

"It's lovely to meet the two of you." My father said.

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you." I quickly followed.

"It's great to meet the two of you as well. We have been looking forward to this." Hannah Smythe said with a sincere and pleasant smile.

"So, what do the two of you do for a living?" My father asked, cutting right to the chase.

Richard was the one to answer, "Well, I am a states attorney, while my wife is an interior designer."

"Impressive work. Where do the two of you live?" My father asked.

Hannah answered, "Well, we have two homes. Richard works in Ohio, but most of my work is done in my hometown in Paris. So we often tend to move between the two."

I was the one to talk this time. Switching to French, I said, " _Your accent is remarkable for a native Parisian. I never would have guessed."_

A look of surprise crossed Hannah's face as she replied in her native tongue, " _I could say the same for you. If you spoke to me in France, I would have never guessed you had an ounce of American blood in you. Quite astounding for a young man your age."_

" _My mother was quite adamant on the fact that I perfect my accent."_

" _Well she did a remarkable job."_

My father chuckled, and said, "Barry, stop showing off."

"Yes father." I replied with a small smile.

"Your son is quite intelligent Mr. Allen." Richard remarked.

"With the risk of sounding full of myself, I must say that I am quite aware of my sons intelligence." My father replied.

With all of the compliments being passed about me, I could feel myself start to blush.

With a soft laugh, Hannah turned toward me and asked, "Mr. Wilson here told us that you are well versed in the musical arts, is this true?"

"Music certainly fascinates me. I play the piano, violin, and guitar, but I hope to perfect them more. I also compose music, although I can't say for certain how good I am at any of these." I answered honestly.

"Stop being modest Barry. He has been playing all of these instruments since he was 3 years old, and he heard his mother playing the piano. He has an impeccably tuned ear, giving him the ability to compose gorgeous pieces. He also keeps on forgetting to mention the fact that he can sing." My father told the Smythe's.

"Really? Now this is something I can't wait to hear." Richard proclaimed.

"I'm going to be honest here, we would love to adopt Barry. I myself am unable to have a child of my own, and you seem like an amazing and intelligent child, and frankly perfect. You are fluent in French, and musically gifted. However, there are a few legal troubles." Hannah told them.

"Such as?" Father asked.

"As you may be able to tell, we are quite wealthy, and with wealth comes publicity. If we were to adopt Barry, he would have to legally change his name, only until he turns 18." Richard informed them.

"I don't follow." My father admitted.

Hannah was quick to elaborate, "If word were to get out that the child we adopted was the son of a convicted murderer, no offense, it would cause a political riot, and be detrimental to both of our jobs and positions. For this reason, and matters of Barry's own personal safety, our PR agent and lawyer have both agreed that the only way we could go through the adoption, would be if Barry legally changed his name. You would need to sign a contract, and it will grant you the ability to change your name back once you are 18, and are no longer a minor. Of course, it's up to you."

It took me a minute to process everything she just told me, and when I did understand, I was not happy, "I am not ashamed to be an Allen. My father is innocent!"

"And we believe you Barry. Trust me, we went through your fathers case before we even met you, and meeting your father now has only cemented his innocence. But in order to protect you and your father, it has to be done." Hannah told us.

"I agree with Mrs. Smythe, it's really your only viable option." Mr. Wilson said.

"Then I approve." My father said.

"What!?" I cried. I couldn't believe this!

"Barry, they are right, you are never going to live a normal life if you keep the same name. Mr. and Mrs. Smythe, I thank you for believing in my innocence. Other then Barry, you are the only ones who do. More so, I thank you for doing this for Barry." My father informed them.

Now that I had slightly calmed down, I see that it really is the only option. "So what would my name be? If we go though with this." I asked.

"Well, that's up to you. Your last name has to be Smythe of course, and you can't keep Bartholomew, but other then that you can choose." Richard said.

"Sebastian then. Sebastian Smythe. It's the name Nora wanted if we ever were to have a second child." Father said.

Sebastian Smythe. I liked the ring to that. I nodded my approval.

"Sebastian Smythe is it. I'll draw up the contract as soon as possible. The faster the adoption pulls through, the better." Richard said. Finally, something I could actually agree with.

"Then I guess I have to get used to the name Sebastian." I said.

"I guess so." My father agreed.

We continued to converse for another hour or so, going over other legal matters. When we all said our good byes, I was taken back to the orphanage. Walking into the room I shared with four other foster brothers, I grabbed a paper and pen, and wrote across the middle of the page, "Sebastian Smythe." Oh yeah, I could definitely get used to that.


	2. The Return

_**24 Years Old**_

"Hello, this is your Captain speaking, we have just arrived in Central City. The weather outside is 81 degrees Fahrenheit, and it is currently 6:10 pm. Thank you for flying Air Central, and we hope to see you again." I heard the pilot say over the speaker in the large airplane.

Leaning back in my first class seat, I looked out the window as a small smile graced my lips. I was finally home. The elderly woman who sat in the seat next to me turned to me and asked, "Are you from here?"

"Once upon a time, I was. Now I just hope it can be my home once more. What about you?" I answered.

The woman chuckled and replied, "Oh no dearie. I'm from New York, I'm just here to visit family."

Saying my goodbyes to the woman, I picked up my carry on luggage, and departed the plane. I had just arrived from New York City, where I had spent the last six years of my life. There, I attended Julliard College of Music where I had received a degree in musical composition. It took me two years to receive that degree. After those two years, I changed my name once again. Legally, my full name was now "Bartholomew Sebastian Smythe-Allen", but for all intents and purposes, I went by plain old "Barry Allen."

The final four years I spent in New York had been spent slaving away in Colombia University, where I had received a degree in Crime Scene Investigation. While I was in college I took an internship, so I am now able to work as a full time CSI.

It's been a while since I was last in Central City, in fact I haven't been back here since I left all those years ago after I was adopted. I've been to Iron Heights multiple times, but the prison is almost an hour away from Central City.

There was a reason as to why I was back. I had a plan. A plan I had been building since I was 11. A plan to prove my fathers innocence, a plan to find whoever it was that murdered my mother. But there was no way I could get the evidence I need without inside access.

My first idea was to become a detective, and work inside the force, but that idea was quickly put away once I realized how much I hated guns. Instead, inspiration came to me while watching an old crime show. Being a forensic scientist for the Central City Police Department would allow me access to all of my fathers case file, along with multiple other otherwise restricted tools and files. It was the perfect job.

It only took a few phone calls, and an online skype interview for me to get the job. I was to start tomorrow as the new CSI, since the last one retired.

As I entered a taxi outside of the airport, I gave the driver the address of a penthouse my parents bought for me after I told them my plans to relocate here.

It didn't take long for me to warm up to my parents after my adoption. They were both amazing people, who truly cared for me as a son. They will never replace my real parents, but mama and papa are as close to being my real parents as possible. It's part of the reason I kept the name they gave me, I wanted to thank them for everything they had done for me, so putting a hyphen in my name was well worth it.

"Take 22nd street, it's shorter, and usually has less traffic." I informed the taxi driver.

He looked at me through the rear view mirror before saying, "You're from around here? That's funny, I had you pictured as some big city kid."

"Well you're not wrong." I said.

He dropped me off in a large, and expensive looking apartment building. Walking into the grand lobby, I went up to the doorman.

"Hi, I'm Barry Allen, the new resident in 8A." I said, extending my hand.

The man had a clean-shaven face, dark black hair, and wore a pristine blue doorman suit, along with the hat.

"Good afternoon Mr. Allen, welcome to the building, and I hope you had a pleasant flight. Your parents called earlier to inform us about your arrival. My name is Gregory; so if you need anything please don't hesitate to ask. You're the sole resident on the top floor penthouse, I assume you have the key?" Gregory introduced.

"Yes, I do have my key, thank you Gregory. But please, call me Barry." I told him with a smile.

"My apologies Mr. Allen, but I cannot say that is possible."

With a dejected sigh, I said, "Yes, I assumed so, figured I'd at least try. Have a nice day Gregory."

"You as well sir." He told me before I got into the elevator, and pressed for the 8th floor.

Upon opening the door, and entering my new penthouse, I knew immediately that my parents have been here. It was an elegant two-story penthouse, with a floor to ceiling window covering an entire wall, and a large brick fireplace. The entire place was decorated and furnished with only the best money could afford, courtesy of my mother.

In the corner of the main living room, opposite of the fireplace, stood a grand, mahogany piano. Next to it, stood two stands, one holding a guitar, the other held a violin. I assumed that my parents had all of my stuff shipped from New York to here, since on a bookcase near the piano; all of my old pieces and work were placed.

Walking up the grand staircase, I found my bedroom, along with a large library. This was the perfect home. I had to remind myself to call mama later so that I may thank her.

I set my carry-on in my bedroom, and proceeded to change. I found all of my clothes in my closet, which must have been brought here just before I had arrived. After finishing my tour of the house, I decided to go to sleep, considering I was still jet-lagged from my flight, and my first day of work was the next day.

The next morning, I woke up earlier then usual, and prepared for the busy day ahead of me. I had the really bad tendency of being late to literally everything, but I was determined to be on time for my first day on the job, even if it meant borrowing some of Sebastian's habits.

Most of the time, I seem to separate Barry Allen and Sebastian Smythe as two separate people. Barry was always late, very nerdy, super kind, and slightly awkward. Sebastian was always on time, practically a drill sergeant, charming, mean, and socially adventurous. As Sebastian, I was willing to lie and be a villain just so that I may create some drama to ease my boredom. In high school, I even pretended to be gay since being straight at an all boy's school was too dull. At the end of the day, I realize that I am in fact both of these people, but considering the major personality differences I seem to adopt whenever I use a different name, it's quite easy to separate the two different personas.

After I finished my morning routine, I went over to a coffee shop I found near my apartment complex that also happened to be near the precinct. I remembered this place from my childhood, they served delicious cheesecakes. Entering Jitters, I took a seat at an empty table, when I noticed that there was a piano in the corner of the room, near the door. Pretty soon, a beautiful African American waitress came over, ready to take my order.

"Hi, welcome to Jitters, my name is Iris, what can I forget for you today?" She asked with a bright smile gracing her features.

I gave her a soft, shy smile in return as I replied, "Hey Iris. Can I get a caramel macchiato to go?"

Writing it down in her pad, she replied, "Of course! Would you like anything else?"

Smiling nervously, I asked, "Is there any chance you can add a shot of Courvoisier in my coffee?" Now, even I realize that adding alcohol in ones coffee is completely odd, and unhealthy. But spend enough time in Paris, and you pick up a few unhealthy habits.

"You want me to put alcohol in your coffee?" She asked incredulously.

"I have an incredibly high alcohol tolerance." I told her truthfully.

Chuckling, she said, "Alright, I'll trust you. I'll be right back with your coffee."

"Thanks Iris." I told her as she left. She certainly was beautiful. I guess Jitters was going to become my new daily hang out.

As I was waiting for my coffee, I couldn't help but eye the piano in the corner. I haven't had a chance to try the one at home, and now all I want to do is play. Getting off my seat, I made my way towards the piano. Sitting down on the bench, I closed my eyes, and let my fingers press down on they keys, composing a familiar melody.

Without realizing it, I was playing Canon in D, one of my mothers' favorite pieces before she passed away. I was lost in the music, completely unaware of my surroundings. When I finished the final notes, and opened my eyes, I saw everyone in the café looking at me and applauding. Getting up, I smiled at everyone and thanked them, before making my way to my previous seat.

Handing me my coffee, Iris said, "Well well well, it is isn't an alcoholic Mozart here in the flesh."

"I am no Mozart." I told her, giving her the money for my coffee.

She scoffed, "Oh please, you're really talented."

"Thank you."

"Seriously Mozart, is that what you do for a living."

"Not exactly." I replied before looking at my watch, and realizing that if I didn't leave now, I would be late to work.

"I got to go, before I'm running late for work. Bye Iris, thanks for the coffee." I say, before leaving in a hurry.

"Bye Mozart." I hear her calling after me. So much for not being late on my first day.


	3. The First Day

The walk from Jitters to the precinct was not a long one. Thankfully, I was not running late, in fact, I was going to arrive quite early. I took a sip of my perfectly brewed coffee as I opened the door leading to the precinct. The sharp burn of the alcohol pierced my throat, and I smiled at the all too familiar taste.

Walking into the precinct, I couldn't help but admire the scene. Multiple detectives and officers were bustling around, all of them having something to do. On one side of the room was an office belonging to "Captain David Singh". He was my boss, and the man who interviewed me over skype a few weeks ago. He seemed nice enough, but it was obvious that he was quite strict. I admired that.

I walked up to his door, and knocked. "Come on in." I heard Singh call out from within the room.

I entered the room, closing the door behind me, and said, "Hello Captain Singh. I'm Barry Allen, we spoke a few weeks ago?"

Singh looked up from the papers that were on his desk, "Ah yes, Allen, our new CSI right?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, our last CSI has just retired. I believe he's moving to Florida to be with his kids. Are you ready to start today?"

"I am sir. I look forward to working here."

"That's good. When did you get into town? You are from New York, yes?"

"I went to college in New York, but I was born in Central City. I just got in last night."

"Last night? Well you certainly have a long day ahead of you."

"That's fine sir."

"I must warn you, I may seem nice now, but I am quite strict with work, so I expect you to be on top of your game."

"I expect no less."

"Good. Now, let me show you your lab." Singh said, getting off his seat, and moving towards the door. I followed up the staircase, and into a large laboratory.

In the lab were multiple different types of impressive equipment. On one side was a large board, perfect for tacking on pieces of evidence. Looks like I found the place where I will put everything I found on my mothers murder.

"Only you are supposed to have access to this lab, but do not be surprised if you find multiple detectives coming in and out of here. Forensics is sometimes the most important factor of a case. I expect you to turn in all paperwork on time, and I do not tolerate tardiness."

"Understood."

"Here is your official ID, keep it on you at all times, it's the only thing that will allow you access to a crime scene." He said, handing me my ID.

He then spent another hour or so giving me a tour of the precinct, and telling me all of my duties as a CSI. It was obvious he was well respected, and it didn't come as a surprise that a man like him would be the one in charge.

We soon ended up in the lobby once more, where he was currently introducing me to an African American detective with a kind smile, and great posture. He looked somewhere in his forties. "Allen, this is Detective Joe West, one of our best and finest. You will most likely run into him the most while at crime scenes."

"Nice to meet you Allen." Detective West greeted as he shook my hand.

"Nice to meet you too Detective, I look forward to working with you." I said.

"You're a little young to be our new CSI."

"That's what they keep telling me." I responded truthfully. All my life, I have always been 'too young'. I was too young to go through a tragedy. I was too young to go to college. I was too young to take on a few of my mama's clients in the interior design firm. I was too young to be that smart. I was too young to be an alcoholic. I was too young to be a sex-addict. I was too young to graduate Julliard as valedictorian. I was too young to graduate Columbia as valedictorian. This list goes on and on.

The three of us soon parted ways, and I officially began day one of my new job. I spent the rest of the day running between crime scenes, and my lab. The amount of paper work I needed to fill out was borderline ridiculous, but it was part of my job description.

Lunchtime had finally rolled around, and I was beyond happy. The day had been going great so far, but I was starving. There was a small pizzeria near the precinct, where I decided to have lunch.

After getting my food, I sat down at a table. Just as I was about to take a bite to eat, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I said into my phone.

"It that how you greet your brother? I'm hurt Sebastian, really." I heard Nick say. He always did have a flair for the dramatics, even when we were Warblers.

"I don't recall us being brothers Nick." I said jokingly.

"Oh please! All Warblers are brothers!" He said strictly.

"Relax Nick, I just like annoying you. So, what's up? You do realize today is my first day of work, and you could have easily interrupted me in the middle of a crime scene?"

"You wouldn't have answered if you were busy. Plus! This is an emergency!"

I sighed thinking of the last time Nick claimed there was an emergency. Somehow, I ended up almost arrested at the Mexican border, with my car full of whipped cream, and holding a chicken named "Roberto". But that's story for another time.

"I'm not driving to Mexico." I deadpanned.

"It was one time! When will you let it go? But never mind that, I need your help."

"What do you need Nick?"

"I need you to accept the invitation to my wedding."

It honestly took me a full minute to process what Nick just told me, "YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!?" I screamed into the phone.

Everyone in the restaurant was now looking at me, but I couldn't care less. One of my best friends just told me some life altering news.

Nick laughed before saying, "I proposed last night. She said yes. And now I need you to be one of my groomsmen. Do you accept?"

"Of course Nicholas! This is going to be amazing! I'm so happy for you!" I exclaimed.

"Thanks Sebastian. I'll talk to you soon ok? After I straighten out the details." He said.

"Of course. Congrats man." And with that we hung up. I couldn't believe Nick was about to get married.

Nick was always the jokester in regards to the warblers. He was the one who could make a complete joke out of anything, and could always make us laugh no matter what the situation. He's also the absolute last person you would expect to get married, well after me of course.

He always was a player, not to my extent, but a womanizer nonetheless. So when everyone found out that he had a steady girlfriend, we were shocked to say the least. We didn't believe him at first, even asking to meet her so that he could prove it. That was 3 years ago. Now, they're engaged, and I was just asked to be the one of the groomsmen.

After finishing my lunch, I made my way back to the precinct to finish my first day of work. I was in the middle of writing yet another case report when someone came stumbling in my office.

"Hey Mr. Danes!" I heard someone call. Mr. Danes I believe was the old CSI, the one whom I replaced. Looking up from my work, I noticed it was Iris, the barista at Jitters.

"Mozart? You're not Mr. Danes." She said looking at me skeptically.

"No, I'm not." I told her.

"Where is Mr. Danes? Is he ok?" She asked, worried about her elder friend.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just retired. I think he's in Florida with his family." I assured her.

"Oh. That's good."

"Not to be rude, but what exactly are you doing here?" I asked.

Realizing that I still had no idea about the reasons for her visit, she said, "Oh, my dad works here, and I usually hang out in the lab with Mr. Danes to do my work for college. It's kinda the only quite place in the precinct. I just dropped in today to say hello though. But what are you doing here Mozart?"

I laughed and answered, "I work here. First day on the job as the new CSI for the CCPD."

"You. A scientist. Huh, I pictured you more as a rich artist, or maybe even a businessman. Definitely not a scientist though, which is weird considering my instincts and guesses are usually spot on."

"Who told you that you weren't right on your first guess?"

"Well let's see, the fact that you're in a forensics lab working for a police department, for one."

"Good point."

"Should I be worried that the departments new CSI is an alcoholic?" She teased.

"I'll have you know, I'm extremely good at holding my liquor. And it's not my fault I have an odd coffee order, back when I lived in Paris, my friend got me hooked on it. Now, I'm so accustomed to the taste, that I can't have coffee without a shot of Courvoisier."

"Back when you lived in Paris? Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just that you're so out there. First you're an amazing musician, now you've lived in Paris?"

I laughed as an old memory came back to me.

"What is it?" She asked, questioning my laughter.

"Nothing, it's just that what you said reminded me of something my friend told me once a long time ago."

"Oh, ok."

"This is a little off topic,but just because Mr. Danes isn't here anymore, doesn't mean you have to stop studying here. My lab is always open, and I don't mind the company." I offered her.

"Really? That's really nice of you Mozart. Thank you."

"It's Barry. Barry Allen. You might as well know my name if you're going to spend most of your days here in my presence."

"I still prefer Mozart. And my name is Iris West. But, you already knew that."

"Oh, so you're Detective West's daughter. Makes sense."

"You already met my dad?"

"Yeah, Captain Singh introduced us earlier."

"That's cool. Well, I have to go. My lunch break is over soon, and I have to get back to work. I'll see you later, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." I assured her. With a dazzling final smile directed towards me, she left my lab.


End file.
